It Doesn't Matter Anymore
by Cross77
Summary: His love for Skye didn't matter anymore. It was pointless. It was time to move on, time to figure out who he was. Or the one in which Grant and Agent 33 have a conversation while she's stitching up his gunshot wounds. One-shot.


"Are you going to go after her?" asked Agent 33, her mechanical voice whirring slightly.

He cursed as she shifted her stance, accidentally pressing an excessive amount of weight on his side, where she was currently trying to dig bullets out of. Her hands were shaky from nervousness. Huffing, she bit her lip in concentration. "No," he replied gruffly.

She frowned at that, beads of perspiration dripping from her hairline. _From May's hairline._ Jesus, this was weird. He had to constantly remind himself that May was not, in fact, the person patching him up. She had May's face and hair, the only difference being the obvious scar and burn covering half of the right side of her face. It was weird…and slightly creepy. Especially because, unlike May, 33 actually displayed her emotions.

"Why not? I thought you loved her?"

He hissed as she finally pried the final bullet out of his insides. The sound of his flesh squelching was not exactly a welcome one, as it furthered his growing nausea. When he finally got his voice back, he let out a bitter laugh, followed by wheezing. "No, I don't love her," he spat, grimacing as she slid the needle in his skin to begin sewing the wounds shut.

She raised a challenging eyebrow at him. He glared at her knowing expression for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he sighed. "Fine. She's told me to run myself into a wall, jump off a cliff, and walk into traffic. She's called me a back-stabbing traitor, which I guess I kind of am. She called me a Nazi. She shot me four times when I had my back turned and called me her enemy. Thank you for digging those out by the way. Despite all of that, I still love her."

33 smiled.

He continued quickly in an attempt to wipe the smile from her face. "But it doesn't matter anymore. It hasn't for a while. She's hated me and wanted me dead for months. I was just too stupid to think it could be any other way. Too blind. But not anymore. No, I'm done," he bit out, his words filled with anger. "They won't take me back. Skye will never love me again, never look at me like I'm the only thing that mattered. No, it's time to forget about S.H.I.E.L.D. They don't matter anymore."

He felt himself relax as his companion finished stitching up his wounds. She leaned back and let out a sigh of relief, before beginning to clean up the mess. When she was finally completely done ten minutes later, she sat at the edge of the bed, a thoughtful expression on her face. "So…what do we do now?"

His eyebrows furrowed at the question. What to do indeed? He knew what not to do. Never cross paths with Skye again. Avoid S.H.I.E.L.D. at all costs. Remain inconspicuous. Get to a few of his safety deposits. Acquire weapons and ammunition. But she knew all of that. She was asking what else was in store for the both of them. His eyes shifted to 33's burned face, the nanomask infused with her real one. Suddenly, he knew what he had to do. He needed to help his new ally. She needed to find herself. And maybe, just maybe, along the way, he'd figure out just who the hell he was. That was the answer. "We're going to find ourselves, Agent 33. We're not the good guys, at least according to S.H.I.E.L.D. But we aren't the bad guys either. We just need to find the right path."

She smiled brightly and it felt good to make somebody happy for once. And then her eyes shifted downward. She opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. "I, uh, have something that I would like to do," she said nervously. "Do you want to hear it?"

He grinned at her, running a hand through his hair as he rested against a pillow. "I'm not your boss, 33. You don't need to ask for permission to speak. Lay it on me."

"When you," she motioned toward his side, "get better, I remember some Hydra facilities from my time under Whitehall. The bases are used to brainwash…subjects. What happened to me was horrible and it shouldn't be allowed to happen to anyone else. While we're finding ourselves, do you think maybe we could take down some of those operations?"

His smile widened until he swore it was stretching his skin. 33 was already beginning to think for herself. This was good. And in all honesty, he kinda did want to smash some Hydra skulls in. "Sure. We're gonna need to plan each operation extensively, especially because we don't have backup, but I think we can do it." He shifted slightly, making sure to avoid pressing down on his side, and extended his hand. "You and me against the world…I like those odds."

She beamed at him as they shook hands.

* * *

 **AN: Just a quick one-shot that came to mind during a car ride. I disliked the way the show went with Kara and Ward, so I guess writing this helped me quell my frustrations slightly. There may be a sequel to this, but I haven't decided yet.**


End file.
